


A Piece of the Past That Has Long Been Buried

by I_llbedammned



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Children, F/M, M/M, Past, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_llbedammned/pseuds/I_llbedammned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Dragon Age Origins, but before Awakening, Zevran and Wynne are travelling.  While talking Zevran finds out about a new piece of the past: the fact that Wynne has a child somewhere out there.  To try and make her happy, he take it upon himself to try and find her child as a surprise for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Piece of the Past That Has Long Been Buried

The hour was already late in the night and everyone else was asleep. Zevran would have preferred to be among the dreaming, it was a long journey to the Circle's towers and he knew that he would have to be very aware in case any remnants of the blood mages were left among the ranks with a grudge against him and his companions. Despite the fact that the Archdemon had long since been dispatched it was still hard for anyone who lived through that ideal to fully sleep through a night or let go of such paranoid fantasies. Even one who was as carefree as Zevran still was plagued by the nightmares from time to time, which is what had woke him up tonight. Images of darkspawn chewing on the faces of Wynne and Alistair with him being unable to stop them had filled his head and he woke up with a draw of the blade. He sat by the fire, stoking the flames and staring into them while he calmed his nerves down from the sudden start.

"Can't sleep either?" said a familiar voice, coming up behind him. He smiled as Wynne took a seat next to him, dressed in a simple blue sleeping robe. 

Zevran flashed her a dashing smile, "I am afraid not. I was plagued all night by dreams of you. You are quite the foul temptress."

"You are incorrigible." Wynne said with a sleight scowl.

Zevran continued on, unabashed, "Tell me, were you not plagued by dreams of me as well?"

"Contrary to your opinion, my thoughts do not revolve around you."

"Then, pray tell my lady, what rouses you from your rest?"

Wynne paused, thinking of the right words to say, "Well I don't even know why I am telling you this, but I had a bad dream."

"Surely it takes more than a bad dream to disturb a maiden such as yourself." The quick glare from Wynne made Zevran laugh, "Okay, okay, last one!"

Wynne went silent and the elf let loose a sigh, "No, no. Please don't be offended. I am being serious. I swear. Please tell me of your dream." Zevran held up his hands in surrender. Part of him hoped that it was actually was about him, you know what they say about older girls with plenty of experience after all.

"I was just thinking about the past. I try not to think about it too much, but I am not as young as I used to be. I will serve King Alistair for as long as I can, but I fear that my time is growing short." 

Her face looked more lined than he remembered it being, and some part of Zevran felt a twinge of sadness upon noticing that detail. Now that the business was done with the Wardens and surely she could not last too much longer, or so she hinted at. She was a good woman, fierce and strong, and Zevran would do all he could to make sure that her fiery presence stayed in this world just a bit longer.

"So is it regrets that keep you up?"

Wynne shook her head, "No I do not regret what I have done with my time. I have met plenty of interesting people and come back wiser for knowing them."

"And being able to save the world from eternal darkness and torment I'm sure was just a pleasant bonus."

That managed to get a laugh out of Wynne, "Yes, I suppose it is a pleasant side effect of the life I have lived." Her face turned more serious, "But I am where my story ends. Though I have lived a good life, there will be no one there to carry on my name."

"Really?" Zevran's eyebrows arched in genuine surprise, "A woman as experienced as yourself and not a single heir?"

Wynne shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I'm a mage; I was never allowed to have children of my own. I once had a daughter, but she was taken away from me when she was just a babe. Even if I was to meet her now, I doubt I would mean much to her."

Zevran's brow knotted in concern, "That truly is a tragedy. Any child of your should be able to brag to all their friends about who their mother is, not have her identity hidden because of a misguided Chantry rule. And what kind of father would allow their child to be taken away from its own mother?"

Wynne smiled, "While that is sweet of you to say, I am sure the templars would have had something to say to him if he had interfered."

"Yes, yes it is a tragedy." Zevran smiled, leaning in closer to her with a wicked smile, "I don't suppose you would care to make another one now, would you?"

Wynne threw her hands up in the air, "I don't know why I even bother telling you things. You only ever have one thing on your mind."

Zevran laughed devilishly as she walked away in annoyance. But after she was gone something stuck in his head about her words. It was one thing for a beautiful bastard like him to not have an heir that he was aware of; the life that he had lived was not exactly one that a child should like to brag about. However someone like Wynne was another story entirely; she had lived her entire life by the rules that the Chantry had set out for her and they repaid her by taking her only chance at a lasting future. There was something terribly unjust in that happening, and while he admitted to injustices happened every day he still wished to balance the scales just for her. Perhaps it was time that he paid one of his dear friends a visit.  
\----------------------------------------------------------

One of the benefits of being the king's personal assassin is that no one really cared so much what you saw or where you went, for the most part. The templars looked at him with untrusting eyes as he made his way past them, but made no motion to stop his progress forward. He was used to those untrusting looks being cast his way. One did not become an assassin by making friends with everyone, after all. Zevran's finely made Antivan leather boots made soft clicking sounds as he walked through the halls.

He approached the library nearly silently, seeing his quarry standing there playing with a grey tabby kitten: a thin man with shoulder-length brown hair wearing pale green robes that accented his eyes quite nicely. Stubble grew from his face in a way that made him look far more rugged than any mage had a right to. Zevran planned to sneak up on him, but unexpectedly the man looked up from the kitten and saw the Antivan Crow. "Sweet Maker! Is that you, Zev?"

Zevran smiled with bravado, "In the flesh."

The man put down his book and moved towards the elf slowly, as if he was amazed at what he was seeing, "You have a lot of nerve showing up back here. I waited for months for you to come back. You told me that you were going to get me out of this place and then you forgot about me!"

"Yes, yes that was quite regrettable. I was a bit distracted with the darkspawn and the fate of the entire world at the time. My apologies."

"I bet you don't even remember my name."

"Of course I do, my dearest-" Many things ran through Zevran's head: the way the man used electricity in bed, the beautiful way that his skin looked in the moonlight, but for some reason his mind drew a blank when it came to name. The kitten batted against his ankles and suddenly the name sprung to mind, "Anders! I could never forget you."

The man appeared to be assuaged, "Everyone gets a lucky guess I suppose. So what brings you back here? I highly doubt it was my charming presence that brought you back."

Zevran moved a bit closer, picking up the kitten from the floor and putting him on the table where the kitten proceeded to ravage a nearby book, "Well charming though you are, alas I have come here on more official business. I happen to need access to some of the records that the templars keep on mage children."

Anders' eyes went wide, "So you came to me? Why don't you just point the templars' blades to my throat right now?"

"Well I know that if anyone would know a way around their security measures it would be you. I mean you found your way out of here three times and they still have not killed you. That is quite impressive."

"Four, now actually. I swear the next time it will actually stick." Anders paced a bit, "I do know the door where they keep those records, and it is heavily guarded. I do know a passage that would lead you there, but you'd have to be insane to try it as it leads right past the templar sleeping quarters."

Zevran's voice strengthened with determination, “Just point me towards it, it will be done. Then I will trouble you no more."

Anders smiled and gave a sigh, "Just the same as I remembered you being. Glad to see that being a noble's servant hasn't dulled you one bit."

Zevran laughed, "It takes more than a few stuffy nobles to quench the fire like I have in my heart."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Anders had said that it was hard to navigate the passage he was not exaggerating. The fit was tight at times, forcing the elf to turn sideways so he could slip by, and there was next to no light. It was most likely a place that whoever or whatever had constructed had intended to make a hallway but had changed their mind part of the way through and just built a room on the other side instead. Clearly many other mages had learned about this passage as Zevran saw many hidden bits of contraband, pictures of family and bottles of lyrium, put here where no one else could find them.

With caution Zevran poked his blonde head out of the passage once he reached the end. A few templars stood outside the room, but there were no visible guards on the inside. Like a shadow he moved out of the passage way, closing the false wall behind him and making his way towards the restricted bookshelves. His fingers lightly rested upon leather covers that seemed to stretch on forever 'til he finally found the books for births. He took one off the shelf and began to read furtively, using the moonlight from the windows to read the names scrawled upon the pages.

This went on for hours, the moon changing its arc in the sky and the guards changing watches as he scanned over names of parents and children. A depressing amount of children were labeled deceased and Zevran hoped that wasn't what had happened to Wynne. It certainly would make sense if that was what had happened, given the fact that she did not want to talk about the child. 

Just when hope seemed to be lost his eyes fell upon her name: Wynne. One child, unknown father, given to the Chantry in Redcliffe. Zevran closed the book and put it back on its shelf, glad that he had a direction to go in now.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Something almost like nerves made Zevran's heart flutter as he knocked on the door later on in Redcliffe. It had taken a bit of time and investigation to find her, but at last he had finally made it to her door. There was a pause for a minute and he almost turned around, deciding the whole project was silly. What had gotten into him lately? It was not like him to be trembling at the idea of meeting new people like he was a small child. But what if he was crossing a line and Wynne never really wanted to meet her daughter? What if this woman would just be angry at finding out who her mother was and this whole trip was for nothing? Normally he would not care, but he did not want Wynne to pass with this weighing upon her mind or her to give him a patronizing speech about how stupid he was for attempting this in the first place.

The door swung open and standing before him was a girl with long, pale blonde hair and grey eyes that looked very much like Wynne's. Upon seeing her standing there in the simple brown dress there was no question in Zevran's mind that she was her mother's daughter, she looked very much like her but younger and with a broader nose. "Can I help you?" She asked, looking very confused.

"Begging your pardon, but you wouldn't happen to be Marla would you?"

"Yes, that's me. How do you know my name? Who are you?" She looked scared, like she was about to close the door in his face.

"Please, I don't mean you any harm. I am Zevran and I come to you with news of your family."

"I think you must have the wrong Marla. I am an orphan, sir, the Chantry raised me. I don't have any family other than the Divine Mother herself."

Hearing that she was from the Chantry only solidified his suspicions, "No, no I am sure you are her. Can I come in? This would be a much easier talk to have out of the street."

She looked unsure, but decided to take a chance, "Yeah sure, come in."

She lived in a modest two room house, but it was clean and stocked well with fruits and vegetables. The furniture was made out of plain wood, but it was strong and sturdy.

"Lovely place you have here."

"Thanks." She motioned to him to take a seat on one of the wooden chairs surrounding her dining table as she took one herself, "But I highly doubt that you came in just to look at the house."

"Right to business then?" Zevran laughed, "I like that! Well you said you were raised by the Chantry, do you know anything of your family."

The woman shook her head, "I'm afraid not. All I was told is that my mother was unable to keep me due to a health condition and nothing else." Suddenly her expression, changed to drained, "Oh Andraste, you're not a debt collector, are you?"

"No, no nothing like that." Zevran assured her and the relief was palpable on her face, "But I think I may know who your mother is."

"You do? How do you know that?"

"That is not important." Zevran waved his hand to dismiss any further questioning along that line, "What is important is that she is in town and I think it would do you both very much good to meet."

"Why would I want to meet someone who I barely know? If she didn't want anything to do with me then, why would she want something to do with me now?"

"To be honest, I don't think she had much say in whether or not she could keep you, not that such things particularly matter now." Zevran's voice lost its cavalier tone and suddenly became grave, "Listen, I will be honest with you. I do not know how much time she has left. It would mean a lot to her to meet you, even if it is just once, to know that you are safe."

Marla looked unsure, "I want to say yes, but I have someone here that I can't leave behind."

"Who is it, a husband, a boyfriend? I can assure you that he will not trouble you while you are with me. I can be very persuasive."

"Well it is a man, but not quite that old."

As if on cue a baby began to cry out of the bedroom and Marla rushed off to go tend to it. Zevran's eyes lit up and he laughed, "Oh that! Bring him with you."

Marla returned back, the baby wrapped in a yellow blanket in her arms, "Where would I be going?"

"Not that far. Only to the castle up on the hill."

"The castle?" The woman's face paled, "Oh dear. I don't think that someone like me will blend in with the type of crowd that is in the castle. I will probably only embarrass her."

"A lovely woman like you could never embarrass her, I assure you."

There was a pause and Zevran could see Marla turning over thoughts in her head, "I suppose me and Jeffrey could make a trip there today." Her voice shook a bit with nervousness, but her eyes looked steady and full of flame. She turned towards the baby in her arms, "You hear that? We're going to meet your grandmother."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Night had already fallen by the time that Zevran got Marla and her baby Jeffrey to the castle. He supposed it was for the best, there would be fewer questions asked if less people would be around to see her. He led her to a small sitting room that was filled with very soft chairs. He figured that it would give them a place to talk, or if Wynne got angry at him for this at least all the objects she could throw at him would be soft.

"Wait here." He instructed Marla, who had changed out of her brown dress and into the fanciest dark blue one she owned. She nodded, trying in vain to get the stain off of her sleeve.

"What is the meaning of this?" came Wynne's voice from the other room, sounding bewildered. 

"Trust me; you will want to see this sight." 

"This better not just be another veiled attempt to bed me," Wynne said reproachfully.

"While I would not object to bedding you, no. That is not my aim for tonight."

The two entered into the room where Marla was and Zevran stepped in front of Wynne, "Madame Wynne, may I present to you Lady Marla."

"How do you do?" Wynne said, inclining her head.

"You! You're a mage!" Marla's jaw fell open.

"Yes, yes I am." Wynne said, bracing herself for vicious backlash.

Marla looked relieved, "I was expecting some sort of noble living in the castle, not just a mage."

"Hey, that is the King's advisor you are talking to, not just any mage," Zevran added in, bragging for Wynne because she would not.

"Oh! My apologies!" Marla curtsied low.

"You don't need to bow, my dear. I'm not all that special." Wynne said. Her head turned towards Zevran, "She is a very nice girl, but why did I need to meet her right at this moment?"

Marla turned towards Zevran with daggers in her eyes, "I told you that you were daft. There's no way that the Chantry would have not told me if my mother was still alive, let alone if she was a mage."

That gave Wynne a pause, "Wait, did you say you grew up in the Chantry?"

"Yes, miss. I was raised by them ever since I was a babe."

Wynne walked closer, looking at the woman's face in the torchlight. "Then he may not be as daft as he seems to be. You would be my daughter's age if you were her."

"You mean, he wasn't just joking with me? You might be my mother?"

"It looks very likely."

Zevran made an exasperated noise, "It is more than likely I can assure you. I worked very hard and double checked the record the best I could."

"You did all that for me?"

Zevran smirked, "It was nothing, really. Just something to pass the time."

Wynne gave a smile, and turned back to Marla, "You look like you are doing well for yourself. That is very good to see. Who is that?" She asked, looking at the baby.

"This is my son, Jeffrey."

"Do you mind if I hold him?"

Marla nodded, "Sure, you can hold him." Wynne's face was filled with a look of peace and wonder that Zevran had rarely seen on her face. Just seeing her so happy made all the leg work and risks he had taken worth it.

The two talked for a bit, trying to catch up on all the time that had been stolen from them by the Chantry. Eventually the hour became late and Marla left the castle to go to sleep, Wynne promising to visit her at least once more before they left Redcliffe. Wynne and Zevran stood alone in the room. 

"That was no small feat you did. I never expected to see her, let alone meet my grandson."

Zevran smiled genuinely, a softer thing than his typical smirk, "I am just glad that you did not get angry at me for meddling in your personal affairs."

"No, it was very sweet.” She leaned in and gave him a small kiss. Zevran was greatly taken aback, but quickly returned her kiss gratefully.

His smile turned wicked, "That is all? Just a kiss? Surely we can make a better reward, no?"

She laughed, "Not tonight. Perhaps another night."

"I will hold you to that, I will have you know."

"I'm counting on it."


End file.
